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Not my preference, but I can live with it, I guess.
I slide my phone across the console, making a point of pressing my thumb over the home key in the process. “Here. Why don’t you search the address for me. You can be my secretary.”
“Thanks, how sexist of you.”
“Okay, fine, you can be my navigator instead. But just know I’ve always wanted to have an affair with my secretary.” I fire off a suggestive wink.
She startles…then stares me down until I’m a squirmy bug under a microscope. I’m not much on all the PC culture stuff, but probably, after all she’s told me in our short acquaintance, all I’ve learned of the injustices she contends with, my joke isn’t entirely appropriate. A certain slimeball professor comes to mind. “Annalise…”
“You’re nervous.”
What?
“You’re nervous, and you crack dumb jokes when you’re nervous.”
“I’m not…”
Okay, I am a little uptight—and a little jarred that I’m this transparent. I tug on my lip. “A lot is riding on this meeting, you know?” At least I hope it is. If it’s a bust, myinvestigationis officially done. Probably, I am too.
“I know.” She’s quiet and confident, unperturbed, though I deserve a punch in the face. “So, what’s this address I’m looking for?”
“Go to my last text from Tripp.”
She pauses. “Tripp sent you this lead?”
“Yeah. Shocker, right?”
She taps on the screen. “Nope. He’s loyal, Marco. You should know that.”
Oh, that’s rich. “Well, lately, his loyalty feels a whole lot like betrayal.”
“You had a fight. That’s what friends do sometimes. Family, too.”
“I told you, we’re not friends anymore.” And certainly not family.
“If you say so.”
I do say so, and I don’t like her tone.
I see her over there, tapping and swiping away. “Hey now, we’re looking for one message here.”
“I’m not snooping.”
“Didn’t say you were—but funny you went there.”
“Marco, I don’t need to read all Tripp’s texts to know he’s been pestering you about me.”
I imagine not. I drum my fingers on the wheel. “Found that address yet?”
“Entering it now.”
She informs me we’re only five minutes away from this kid’s apartment and begins tossing out directions. We pull up to the curb in front of a two-story apartment building comprised of four units with an iron gate and a call button at the front access point. Dang it. These anonymous meetings are best face to face—but it won’t be the first time I’ve had to navigate barriers. I only wish I still had my badge and could come on all official-like.
Despite my instruction for Annalise to wait in the truck, her door slams behind me and she catches up at the gate. Whatever. I’ve no reason to believe we’re in any danger, and it’s not worth the argument. I’ll be lucky to find the guy at home.
Speaking of luck, the gate swings open when I touch it, so we let ourselves in to the breezeway and go up the stairs. A cute little coed answers the door. She’s wearing an oversized sweatshirt and may or may not have shorts on underneath, a stupid style of college students these days. She holds the door half open, half closed, as if I wouldn’t be able to barrel right through.
I catch her startle and realize I’ve made a tactical error. Today was a day for long sleeves—and if I’d not been sleep deprived and already thinking ten steps ahead, I might have realized my mistake soon enough to do something about it.
